Page 172 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Apologies,” Atreus said with a laugh. “Cook is Russian.”

“A little warning next time,” I coughed out.

“Did I mistake you for a woman who can handle her liquor?”

“Liquor, yes. Flame retardant, not so much.”

He let out a pleased chuckle, but then there was one of those goddamn hands again—tucking my bangs behind my ear, sliding down my neck to my shoulder, then my back. A shudder rolled through me, and I cursed how touch-starved I was. I could’ve devoured this princeling’s attention if not for one fucking thing.

He wasn’t Cyrus.

No matter how dashing he looked in his suit, or how bright that smile was, he was wrong.

Despite my affliction with the curse of unrequited loyalties, I painted on a small smile and sipped the very Russian vodka for something to do as he guided me toward the railing with a hand at the small of my back.

Beyond it stretched one of the most breathtaking views of the rolling blue Appalachians. Fog pooled in the valleys, sunlight glancing off endless green forest and catching on the glass panes of nearby houses. Gorgeous. Still, my attention locked onto the man at my right as he lowered his voice near my ear.

“You look stunning tonight, Freya.”

“You’re incredibly forward, do you know that?” At this point, I was just relieved my voice didn’t come out bimbo-breathless. I didn’t even want to know how many panties had hit the floor because of these antics. The number had to be staggering.

He shrugged, unbothered. “I’m a man who knows what he wants. I like to think that’s an asset.”

“It’s rather refreshing, if I’m honest. I’m tired of guessing games.” Citrine eyes flashed through my mind, tightening my throat. What I would pay for Cyrus to just talk to me with half this bravado.

“How’s this—too forward?” he asked. The heat of his palm shifted against my back as one finger trailed up my spine, across my shoulder, then—gentler—over my clavicle. Goosebumps followed. My eyes slipped closed. All the while, that thing in my chest screamed and thrashed. The damn bond made not pulling away a feat of epic proportions. I covered the reaction by clearing my throat, tucking my bangs behind my ear, and smiling up at him.

“I’ve had the pleasure of your company twice, and I can say without a doubt that should you find my father’s terms agreeable, this harebrained plan of his will be the greatest gift he’s ever given me.”

“With a view like this, that’s hard to believe,” I said, eyes drifting toward the hills. That lone finger traced up my throat, and my breath hitched as he saw what he wanted and fucking went for it. Why was that hot? Why did I hate it?

Hooking my chin with his finger, he drew me back to look up at him.

The man was either a spectacular actor or painfully genuine. Those pine-green eyes softened. Heated. “It’s got nothing on you.”

I gulped, fighting for air with him so close. Christ, I couldn’t remember a man ever being this direct with me. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but my body was definitely aware that a man had his hands on me.

It wasn’t mad about it.

The Mate Bond, however, was—thrashing against my ribs like I’d trapped a serpent in a cage.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Atreus.”

He chuckled softly, lips quirking. “How could I when you’re wearing a dress like that? I told you to bring it, and you did not hold back.”

“Yes, well, you did say Viktor was a tit man.”

The laugh that burst out of him seemed to surprise even Atreus. His eyes squeezed shut as he tipped his head back with the force of it. This time, my smile was genuine.

He didn’t get the chance to respond. A voice like daybreak over gravel had me whipping around toward a figure that made my breath stutter. “I’m sorry, I’m a what?”

The man was all tan skin and deep golden hair, offset by eyes I could only describe as husky blue. Something about him felt familiar.

“Viktor!” Atreus laughed, shooting out a hand in greeting. The newcomer took it, but even as he hugged the prince, his eyes stayed on me, an understated smirk curving his lips. “Thanks for coming.”

Viktor straightened, accepted a drink from a passing server without looking, and closed the distance with one hand extended.

I shook it, fighting the blush threatening my cheeks. “Freya Porter, at your service.”